


The Cask of GENtern

by jewishbensolo



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Fratricide, Gen, based off an edgar allen poe story, the cask of amontillado
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewishbensolo/pseuds/jewishbensolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A twist on Edgar Allen Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado. Pavi insults Luigi one too many times, and now Luigi wants revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cask of GENtern

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I came up with in English class last year when we were reading Edgar Allen Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado. It is up on FFn, under the title The Cask of Pavi.

This is an idea I came up with in English class last year when we were reading Edgar Allen Poe’s  _The Cask of Amontillado._ It is up on FFn [here](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7364265/1/The-Cask-of-Pavi), under the title  _The Cask of Pavi._

 

The thousands of insults my brother Paviche has thrown at me I had borne as best as I humanly could. But there were limits to everything, including limits on how much insults can one temperamental GeneCo heir could stand. So I vowed revenge. Of course I did. You, who know me so well, should know I never uttered any mention of a threat against my brother. But I had to be avenged. My pride was much too precious to let Pavi get away with what he said.

Now, neither my actions nor my deeds gave my “dear” brother cause to doubt my actions any more than he normally should, nothing to make him act like something’s up. I just behaved the way I normally would on any other occasion, indifferently sipping my coffee and stabbing whoever was nearby if the coffee was decaf or if there was some GENtern or surGEN that just happened to be nearby that pissed me off. The poor fool never suspected that behind my usual permanent scowl was an almost sort of sadistic giddiness at my own brother’s demise.

He had a weak point, as all men did, although he was regarded as a powerful man to be respected, feared (not as much as me), and admired, the latter mostly from the stupid females. He prided himself on his vast knowledge on beauty and those which are aesthetically pleasing. Especially women. Oh, how he loved women. Few men have ever loved women and their beauty as much as he. He was not so great at painting, but he was a charming man nonetheless. In this respect I did not totally differ from him; I admired women from afar, but that’s how far it got. I haven’t really had a good screw in quite a while.

It was dusk one evening, during the GeneCo Mardi Gras celebration, that I encountered my  _fratello._ He welcomed me with excessive warmth, since he was almost drunk off his rocker, GENtern sluts draped over him like curtains. Paviche wore his usual suit with some green and purple beads around his neck and some wine in both hands. I was unusually pleased to see him.

“My dear Paviche,” I said uncharacteristically, “how marvelous it is to see you on such a fine night. How  _bello_ you are tonight!But see, I hired a new GENtern who seems to be very  _magnifico_ , but you know I’m not an expert on beautiful women. So, naturally, I have my doubts.”

“How?” Pavi half-exclaimed, half-slurred. “A new GENtern? You-a hired a new GENtern? Right now, in-a the middle of the Mardi Gras  _celebrazione?_ ”

“Like I said, I do have my doubts,” I replied, “and I was foolish enough to hire her without consulting you first. You were nowhere to be found and I was fearful of losing her.”

“GENtern!”

“I do have misgivings, though.” Right. Luigi Largo doesn’t have misgivings, ever. Pavi would know that normally. Good thing he was good and wasted, almost.

“GENtern!”

“And I must satisfy them as soon as possible.”

“GENtern!” he repeated once more, irritating me to no end. I counted to ten to try to calm myself down.  _Pace yourself, Luigi,_ I told myself.  _He’ll have his soon. Patience is a virtue._ But patience wasn’t  _my_ virtue. I did somehow manage not to stab him right there and then.

“As you are engaged, I will make my way to our dear  _sorella._ If anyone can look at the new employee, it is her.”

“Carmela is-a not a better critic of beauty than I,” he argued.

“And yet some fools seem to believe she has a good enough eye to match your own.”

“Come, let us go,” he said, abandoning his wine and his harem to grab my arm.

“Where to, my brother?” I asked innocently.

“To wherever it is you have-a this young women.”

“My brother, no. I will not impose upon your festivities. I perceive you have an engagement.” I pointed to the pouting flock of scantily-clad GENterns, watching us. “Carmela-“

“I have-a no plans; come.”

“My brother, no. It is not the engagement, but the cold of the waiting room in which she is currently occupying. It is quite cold in there and I would hate for you to  _catch your death._ ” I internally snorted at my choice of words.”

“I am-a fine, dear brother. The cold is-a nothing. GENtern! I think it is-a you who has been imposed upon; as for Amber, dear, she cannot critique beauty well.”

He grabbed my arm once more. I pulled out a black silk mask and told him to hurry with me to our  _palazzo._

There were no GENterns nor maids or butlers or workers attending the home. I had dismissed them, with an excuse of telling them to go be merry at Mardi Gras. They looked at me as if I were high on Zydrate or drunk. I sternly told them I shall not return to the house until morning and implored them not to stir from the house. The orders were sufficient, of course. You don’t cross Luigi Largo and live to tell the tale.

The ‘waiting room’ where I had claimed to have kept the new GENtern, was rather dark, so I got two lanterns, one for me, one for Pavi. We weaved through hallway after hallway, room after room. We passed a long, winding staircase and I cautioned Pavi, who only reminded me that he knew what he was doing since he was so amazing. We came to a stop at the cold floor of the catacombs of the Largos.

My drunken brother was teetering a bit. But he still wasn’t drunk to the point of passing out.

“The employee,” he slurred.

“She’s farther on,” I said. “But observe the artwork on the walls.”

Italian paintings of the Largo family that date back to the Renaissance era decorated the walls surrounding us.

Paviche turned and looked at me, his eyes clouded with intoxication.

“Yes, I’ve-a seen-a those paintings, my brother,” he said, and then coughed lightly.

I feigned concern. “Dear brother, how long have you had that cough?”

He coughed for several minutes, hacking even. He found it nearly impossible to reply.

“It’s-a nothing,” he said at last.

“Come,” I said decidedly, “we must go back. Your health is far too precious to me.”  _Yeah, fucking right. Paviche could just drop dead for all I care._ “You are rich, handsome, respected, admired, beloved; you are as happy as I once was. You are to be missed should your health be in jeopardy. I, on the other hand, am not of highest regard. We shall go back at once; you are clearly ill and I cannot have that on my conscious. Besides, I always have Amber-“

“Enough,” he interrupted, “the cough is a mere nothing; it-a won’t-a kill me. I surely won’t-a die-a from a cough.”

“True, true,” I said, hiding the disappointment from my tone. “And, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily.”  _Lie._ “But you should take proper caution.”

I knocked the cap off a bottle of wine I had stored on a shelf with others.

“Drink,” I ordered sternly.

He raised it to his lips. He paused and nodded to me.

“I-a drink,” he said, “to-a the repossessed organs that-a surround us.”

I rolled my eyes. Pavi was such a weirdo. I couldn’t wait to rid myself of him. “And I to your long life.”  _Not really,_ I thought eagerly.

Paviche again took my arm and we proceeded down the labyrinth.

“The corridors, they are-a extensive,” he mused, a little more drunk than before.

I nodded. “Yes, us Largos,” I acknowledged, “we are a great numerous family.”

“I-a forget-a our arms.” Geeze, my brother forgot his family’s coat of arms. I hope for his sake that it’s just him being a drunken idiot.

“I believe it’s two red stars and a blue stripe, dear brother.”

“And-a the motto?”

“ _Divide et impera._ ”

“That’s-a good!” my boneheaded brother said cheerily. “But-a what-a does that mean?”

“Divide and conquer, my fratello.”

He nodded. The wine sparkled in his eyes and my own fancy grew warm. I was all too eager to get to my elaborate revenge scheme. We passed through walls of shelves containing jarred organs. I paused again to seize Pavi by the arm.

“The cold!” I gasped, feigning worry. “It is increasing! No doubt we  _must_ turn back at once while we can! Your cough-“

“My cough is-a fine, fratello,” Pavi interrupted. “Let us go on; but first, let me get-a another sip-a the wine.”

I broke and gave him another glass of wine, which he rapidly finished. Well, might as well let him have some wine as I was gonna murder him later. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle up in the air in a gesture of which I did not understand.

I looked at him in puzzlement and he repeated the gesture.

“You do not-a comprehend?” he asked.

“Should I?”

“Well, yes, if you are a part-a the brotherhood.”

“The brotherhood?”

“Uh, never-a mind. It’s-a confidential.”

I laughed dryly, producing a lighter from a hidden cabinet and a match. “Whatever it is, if you’re not gonna let your dear brother in on it, it must not be that great.”

“You-a jest!” he exclaimed, recoiling. “But-a let us proceed onward to-a the GENtern you promised me.”

“Brother, you must not know me all that well. I never jest.” That was all too true. I cannot even begin to remember the last time I joked.

“Very well,” he said, resigned.

I hid the tools beneath my suit, offering up my arm, which he eagerly took. We continued in search of the so-called GENtern. We kept on descending down, down, down.

The catacombs we reached were far less spacious than the previous. Its walls were lined with human skeletons and caked with dried blood and carcasses. This is where I stored my victims.

In vain, Paviche tried to scour the depths of the recess. The feeble light his lantern provided offered no success.

“Proceed,” I said. “Herein is where the GENtern might be. In truth, I put her way back at the room with the Italian family portraits. She must’ve wandered all the way down here. She won’t be much use of us no longer as a GENtern, but if she’s pretty enough, you can have her. As for Carmela…”

“She is-a an ignoramus,” he said, teetering. I couldn’t help but snicker at that. He was right about that. He soon reached the extremity of the niche and stood stupidly, looking at the pile of dead women and men. They were fairly fresh, just killed last week.

“Touch the wall, Paviche,” I said and he did so. “Feel how cold it is. You say you want to continue? Can I not  _implore_ you to turn back now? This might be your last chance. No? Then I have no other option than to leave you. But first, let me have your attention.”

“The GENtern!” he interjected.

“Yes, the GENtern,” I repeated grimly, getting impatient. I removed the match and lighter from where I hid them and I fetched the gasoline from under the pile of bodies.

Then I realized how Pavi begun to sober up. The frightened cry he uttered was not the cry of an intoxicated man.

“What is the matter?” I said, turning to him. His face paled. There was a long silence.

“Brother, what-a are you going to-a do with-a that gasoline and that match?” His tone was frightened.

“Paviche Antonio Largo,” I said darkly, “for twenty-five years I have put up with your shit. I have dealt with your vanity, your annoyingness, and your insults. You have crossed the line the other day, my  _dear_ fratello,” I sneered harshly. I opened the gasoline. “That line was never meant to be crossed. And now, you must pay.” I tossed that gasoline at Pavi’s  _handsome_ face and he screamed. I lit the match and threw it at him. He instantly caught on fire.

A succession of loud screams from my brother echoed through the crypt. He fell to the floor, gripping his flaming face in agony.

“Brother..,” he croaked, “why? Why must you do this to me?”

“ _Si deve morire,_ ” I spit. “You must die.”

“For the love of God, Luigi!” he screamed. “You are a cruel opponent!”

I laughed bitterly. “Tell me something I don’t know,” I mocked. I turned for a minute, looking all around the spooky crypt. This was a perfect place for my brother’s demise. When I turned back around, however…my fratello was missing.

“Pavi?” I called.

No answer. I called again.

“Paviche!” No answer still. I threw my match and the gasoline and the lighter at the charred ground in which my brother previously lay. I slowly left the crypt and spoke nothing of this incident.

EPILOGUE:

I was dragging four bodies on my back to my crypt. They were two surGENs and two GENterns-both pissed me off, which is why I killed them, obviously. I had just disposed of them in a fresh new pile when I heard a noise, someone whispering my name.

“Luigi…my-a fratello…” I could recognize that accent anywhere.

“Pavi?” I asked, before discovering him sitting against the skeleton wall. “I thought I killed you.”

He shook his head. “No, but-a you did scar-a my beautiful face forever.” He turned his face toward me and I gaped in horror. My brother had once been the most beautiful boy, then man. Women would flock to him, draping themselves on him. It was a funny thing. He was dubbed a rapist by some, but the women he had attracted seemed to want to rape  _him._ But now, now he was unrecognizable. Burnt marks covered his face. “Before-a you ask, no I do not-a hold a grudge against you. I’m not-a like you, Luigi. I forgive-a and forget. But you-a have to fix me. I can’t-a go on looking like-a this, like- a freak! Fix me  _per favore!_ ”

I had to admit this, I did owe him for scarring his face. But if you tell anyone, I will deny it and stab you repeatedly. So I came up with a solution: Since he was already a ladies’ man, he could seduce the women like always but then steal their faces to wear as his own after. We could say it was a fashion statement. No one could know the real truth, except of course, the GENterns, Rotti, and Amber.

No one will ever have to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Repo! I do not own Cask.


End file.
